Henry sat on a fallen log and watched his wife move around the campfire. She held a pot of coffee, her hand protected with a piece of cloth. He thought she looked completely charming.

The dawn had broken just an hour before in a spectacular burst of blue with hints of violet across the horizon. It brought with it their second day on the trail to the site where they would build a home together, complete with an orphanage and school as well as a large experimental laboratory for him. He was both excited at the prospect and a little nervous.

Excited at the idea of having adequate space to pursue his interest in science, and nervous about his wife.

When he’d emerged from the wagon where they’d spent their second very chaste night as man and wife, Phebe had already left their makeshift bed, gotten dressed, and was now busy making breakfast for all the men. And even though he’d been awake for a good hour or so, Henry was still moving at a snail’s pace, mostly due to the lack of sleep.

The wagon bed had been too hard, and his wife far too close, for Henry to get any rest. It didn’t help matters any that he felt out of sorts while Phebe looked calm and ready to face anything that might come her way.

Of course, his wife was the biggest part of his problem. Despite her smile and friendly tone as she talked to the men, Henry still had the strong impression that she was annoyed with him. And he had no idea why she would be. He’d followed every step in The Gentlemen’s Guide to Domestic Tranquility.

He’d made a trip to his favorite bookstore the morning after he first met Phebe. Knowing he had no idea at all about how to be a good husband, he’d been happy to find a book filled with advice. It had seemed straightforward and reasonable enough, and he had gone along with all the directions outlined on its pages.

When Phebe laughed, Henry’s gaze skipped over to his wife. At that moment she looked relaxed and happy. Maybe he was imagining things. After all, what did he know about women? At least any women he hadn’t grown up with.

Deciding to concentrate on the pile of rocks at his feet, Henry picked one up and examined it. The multicolored bands running through it had been unusual enough to attract his attention. Once they were settled into their new home, he intended to catalog his recently started rock collection. He became so engrossed in studying his find that he didn’t hear his wife approaching until she sat down next to him on the log.

“Jake says that we’ll reach the end of our trip by noon.”

Henry adjusted his glasses and smiled at her. “Yes, I know. We should be there in another four hours or so. I thought we could spend that time together and go over the plans you drew during our train ride.”

Phebe folded her hands in her lap and kept her gaze on the men who were busy hitching teams up to the wagons. “I’m sure there will be plenty of time to do that. I’ve already agreed to ride with Jake. He’s going to teach me how to drive the wagon.”

Genuinely perplexed at the notion, Henry frowned. “Why?”

His wife shrugged. “The men can’t stay forever, Henry, so someone will need to be able to handle the wagon.” She turned her brown-eyed gaze on him. “Have you ever driven a pair of horses and a wagon?”

“Well, no,” Henry was forced to admit. “But I do know how to drive a carriage, and I’m sure the principle is the same.”

“But there’s nothing like experience,” Phebe said quietly. “So I think riding with Jake is important.”

“It’s a good idea, Phebe,” Henry reluctantly agreed. He was disappointed, but he had to acknowledge the soundness of her logic. Both of them should be able to drive a wagon. “Maybe I’ll talk to Reb about taking a turn this afternoon with his team.” He guessed he’d said the right thing when Phebe smiled.

“I think that’s also an excellent idea, Henry.”

“Here, you’d better let me take the reins, Miz Phebe. This turn can be a mite tricky.”

Since her arms had begun to ache, Phebe gladly handed the thick leather reins over to Jake, who immediately slowed the team. The small track Jake turned the horses into was barely wide enough to allow the wagon to pass through the dense growth of trees on either side.

The beauty of the area had taken Phebe’s breath away. The lake was huge, the largest one she’d ever seen. And the water shone a deep blue, sparkling under the sunlight of a perfect spring day. Phebe had decided it was a sign of welcome to her new home, and was still smiling as the horses wound their way through the forest. It was another quarter hour before the narrow trail let out onto a meadow with a large barn and several buildings standing on one end. Rows of stumps and piles of logs on the outer edges showed the field had been enlarged recently.

As Jake pulled the team to a stop, Phebe raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. On the far side of the clearing, close to the trees, was a wagon, with two mules grazing just beyond it. And standing in front of the wagon was a short figure, dressed in baggy pants and a long coat. A floppy hat with a wide, drooping brim was pulled down low over the stranger’s face. What was most concerning to Phebe was the long-barreled gun that their unexpected visitor had cradled in his arms.

Phebe exchanged a look with Jake before he tied off the reins and the other wagons entered the field. As he climbed down from the perch, Phebe gathered her skirt up and did the same thing, not waiting for him to come around to assist her. Getting in and out of a wagon on her own was another skill she’d need to master, and there was no time like the present.

Once her feet were on the ground, Phebe stepped away from the wagon, her gaze on the stranger standing as still as a stone statue. As the mistress of her home, even if she’d just now seen it for the first time, Phebe felt it was her duty to greet any visitors. Shaking her skirts out, she straightened her back and started forward.

She hadn’t gone more than a few steps before she was stopped by a firm hand on her arm.

“I’ll go talk to him. You stay here, Phebe.” Henry added a gentle squeeze on her arm before striding past her.

Phebe watched him cross the field, her shoulders growing more tense as Henry called out a friendly greeting and there was no response. Squinting against the sun, Phebe waited, her heart in her throat when she saw the gun shift in the stranger’s arms as her husband drew closer. At least it wasn’t pointing directly at him, which was something to be grateful for. The pair was far enough away that Phebe couldn’t hear anything being said, but she tensed up again when the stranger turned and walked around the wagon, disappearing to the other side with Henry right behind him.

When her husband reappeared a minute later and headed back toward her, Phebe relaxed again, although she kept a keen eye out for the unknown man, who remained hidden from view. Maybe he was getting ready to leave now that he had company?

Henry was only a few feet away when the sound of a shrill, high-pitched whistle bounced through the trees. Phebe jumped as Henry raised a hand and shook his head at the other men.

“It’s all right. Our visitor is harmless. She came to see Phebe.”

“Me?” Phebe’s eyes widened in surprise. “And did you say ‘she’? He’s a woman?”

“Yes, he is.” Henry made a noise deep in his throat. “I mean, he isn’t a he at all. Her name’s Martha.”

“And she came to talk to me?” Phebe’s question ended on a horrified note. Her hand flew to her throat and her nerves kicked up even higher when a tall, gangly boy stepped out from the protection of the trees. Then she spotted the three small children huddled together, marching along behind him as if they had three heads and one body. “Are those her children?”

“I’m not sure,” Henry said. “She only mentioned she had children with her and wanted to talk to the lady who had the orphan school.”

Phebe’s fear instantly dissolved and her expression softened as she watched the children follow the boy like a brood of chicks. Of course she’d speak with the woman. “Henry, can you ask the men to start a fire right away?”

Her husband frowned. “It isn’t that cold that it can’t wait a bit. Besides, I thought I’d go with you.”

She put a hand on his arm and shook her head. “Not for warmth, Henry. For food. The little ones might be hungry. And if they aren’t now, they will be soon. We can’t ever have a child go hungry.”

Henry blinked at that, then vigorously nodded his agreement. “Of course not. I’ll get the fire going right away and, in the meantime, I’ll ask Reb set out some bread and a crock of butter.”

“That would be fine, thank you.” Phebe gave his arm an approving pat before she started off.

It took her only a few minutes at a brisk walk to cross the field and reach the spot where the mysterious Martha had suddenly reappeared. The children, along with their taller protector, had stopped some distance away. Phebe was sure they’d melt right back into the trees if they thought something was wrong. As she approached the woman silently staring at her from beneath the brim of her oversized hat, Phebe reached out a hand in greeting.

“Hello, Martha. I’m Phebe.”

Martha’s shoulders visibly relaxed. She turned and propped her gun against the side of the wagon before shaking Phebe’s hand.

“Howdy do, ma’am. I come to see you.” Martha smiled, showing the gap between her two front teeth.

Phebe dropped her hand and stood quietly as Martha removed her hat. A long tail of hair, which might have been a light-colored brown if it hadn’t been covered in dust, dropped down over her shoulder and swung against the patched-together coat that reached all the way to Martha’s knees. She was about Phebe’s own height, but the poor woman looked as if she hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.

“We’ve come a ways,” Martha said as she patted at the dirt and grime in her clothes. “Most of this dust is from the mines, and it don’t come out of our clothes anymore. I worked the mines with my husband.” Martha startled her audience of one when she spit on the ground. “He’s dead now, and I want to do better by my boy.”

Phebe made a mental note to dig into the supply of extra clothes in one of the wagons. She looked over at the children. “Aren’t they all yours?”

“No, ma’am. Jest the tall boy. He’s Micah. The little ones are Lil’ Dan, Squealer, and Mite.” Martha glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the small group. “They’re orphans. Lil’ Dan and Squealer were workin’ in their pa’s mine that some men took over when he passed on. And Mite there, well, she woulda been sold as a wife in a few years.”

“A wife?” The little girl didn’t look to be more than six or seven to Phebe’s experienced eye.

Martha blew out a loud breath. “Not a lot of ways fer a young girl to earn her way in minin’ country. At the age she is now, she ain’t worth much, so the folks that took her in were glad to give her to me. They have a passel of young’uns of their own that still need raisin’.”

Phebe knew firsthand the harsh realities of being an orphan in the city. It didn’t surprise her that it wasn’t any different out in the rugged mountains. But at least the children hadn’t been left in the cold to starve or freeze to death.

“I heard yer goin’ to be buildin’ an orphan house,” Martha said slowly. “That’s why we’ve come.”

“We’d be happy to give them a home here.” Phebe looked at the children staring at her, already making plans in her head for how to get them all settled in.

“Micah too.”

Phebe’s gaze snapped back to Martha. “Your son?”

“Word has it yer goin’ to give the orphans some schoolin’?”

Still confused, Phebe only nodded. The woman who’d taken the time to gather up orphaned children and bring them here couldn’t really mean to give up her son, could she?

“I can stay in the woods, work durin’ the day to pay fer his food and such.” When Phebe remained silent, Martha’s jaw hardened and a determined gleam stole into her hazel-colored eyes. “My boy needs to learn to read. I don’t know enough to teach him. I don’t want him workin’ in a filthy mine fer the rest of his life.” Her chin jutted out another inch. “He needs teachin’. I know he’s a bit old to be startin’, but he’s a good learner. You’ll see.”

Finally understanding, and hearing the desperate note in Martha’s voice, Phebe solemnly nodded. “I’m sure he is, and he’s not too old to go to school, Martha.” Phebe tapped a finger against her chin as she watched the relief wash over Martha’s face. “Can you drive a wagon?”

Martha’s eyebrows lifted as she blinked at Phebe. “Of course I can. This wagon here is mine.” She jerked a finger toward the two animals at the front of the wagon, munching on grass. “And those are mine too. I can handle mules or horses. Even an ox if I need to.”

“Good.” Phebe smiled. “We could use the help. So if we take Micah, you’ll have to come along as well.”

“Me?” The thin woman looked as if she’d been suddenly ambushed by a pack of wolves. “You want me to live at the orphan house and do some chores?”

“Well, probably quite a few chores at first,” Phebe admitted before hastily adding, “just until we can find more help.”

Martha shot her a suspicious look. “Seems you got lots of men to do the chores.”

Phebe shook her head. “They’re only staying until the orphanage and school are built. And you wouldn’t be doing just chores.”

“What else needs doin’?”

Taking in a deep breath, Phebe looked over at the mountains all around them. “I need to find other children who are alone and bring them back here where they’ll be safe and have a chance to learn, just like Micah will.”

The woman who’d been willing to give up her son in exchange for giving him an education, slapped the hat she was holding back onto her head. She walked a good ten steps away before turning around and walking back again. When she looked at Phebe, there was moisture in her eyes. “It would be a good thing to do, ma’am, and I’d be proud to help you.”

“Oh, and there’s one other thing,” Phebe said. She smiled when Martha gave her a questioning look. “Please call me Phebe.” She turned her head and called out to the children. “Are you hungry? Supper will be ready soon, but we have some bread and jam ready to eat now.” She barely stifled a squeal of surprise as a sudden stampede of small bodies, and one taller one, raced past her.

Martha stared after them, her hands on her hips. “They shoulda stopped and said howdy. Micah’s been taught better’n that.”

“It’s all right.” Phebe grinned, picturing her husband being suddenly faced with a herd of children rushing at him. “There will be plenty of time for proper introductions later.” She inclined her head at Martha. “It will be good to have another woman here to talk to. I miss my sisters.”

“Haven’t been around any women fer a while now,” Martha grunted. “How many sisters you got?”

“Twenty-five.” When Martha stopped dead and stared at her, Phebe broke out into laughter. “It’s a long story.”